#dick and catalina

[duckysprouts]

it’s been a while since i drew “dear jason” dick and i miss him

[deadsetobsessions]

Okay, so maybe Tim has no business being in Bludhaven. Tim maintains that since his parents fail at parenting, he can do whatever he wants.

Besides, it's for a good cause. Like, not letting Tarantula get her dirty hands on his big brother in another time line. Tarantula had popped up in the Bludhaven servers - by that, Tim means the endless amounts of threads and underground fronts for criminal activity that he stalks on a regular basis- by being seen with Nightwing. Tim had immediately booked a ride to Bludhaven and bought another burner. He'd try to take care of her himself, but if worse comes to worse, he'd call Deathstroke. He's totally aware of the weird tension Deathstroke has with Nightwing and Tim's kind of banking on that.

Dick's been back in Blud for two months now, Jason having assuaged his mother hen tendencies enough for Dick to get sick of the Manor. Tim hadn't meant to follow since he had plenty of projects to work on now that "SAVE JASON" wasn't blaring at the top of his head.

But then Tarantula appeared and Tim saw red, remembering the way Dick spoke about her and what she did to him.

He bids the driver goodbye. The driver doesn't question his being on his lonesome mainly because 1) Gothamites mind their own busines, 2) Tim gave him a $500 tip to make sure he remains a "good" Gothamite cabbie, and 3) Tim made sure he was dropped off in the swankiest, most ostentatious hotel Bludhaven had to offer.

"Rich people," the cab driver had muttered as Tim closed the door. Perfect.

Tim got his keycard, having checked in under Alvin Draper over the phone. Normally, they'd require an in person visit, but money talks. And people listened when Tim had a lot of things to say.

Tim even feels like he's trained enough to go out! Lady Shiva's training was ingrained into his memory, and Tim's built enough muscle to make use of some of it. He is still nine, after all. He's so much stealthier this time around. Plus, he's got almost his full tool set back. Sure, some of the tech is ancient, but he managed to finagle it to make grappling guns and smoke pellets more along the quality that he's used to.

Tim waits until nightfall, looping the surveillance around his window to mask his exit. Tim adjusts his domino, eyes scanning the city skyline as his handheld computer (god, he can't believe he has to invent wrist computers) tracked reports of Nightwing through Tweetings.

Ah. He's around Seventh. Tim grimaces as his untested joints adjusts to the grappling guns. His dark clothes make him hard to spot, to his advantage as he tracks down Nightwing.

Tim watches, perched on an adjacent roof as Nightwing takes down a crowd of goons with the flips Tim remembered watching from afar and up close in another timeline.

"Blockbuster'll kill everyone you love, Nightwing!"

Tim winces at the rather brutal crunch that followed, Nightwing having punched the guy and knocked him out in one move. He watches Dick sigh, tugging at his hair in stress.

Tim could... no, no. He shouldn't think of murder as a first option. Well, no, he shouldn't think of Deathstroke as a first option. But he'll need to take Blockbuster out before anything happens. And he needs to threaten the new Tarantula before anything happens. He won't allow her to even get close to Dick.

Maybe it's unfair to punish her for a crime she hasn't done, but unlike murder, rape can never be defended. Catalina Flores is a dead woman walking.

Tim stalks his big brother back home and then broke off to begin his short reign of terror over Bludhaven's underground. If he can't get Dick to take a break (and Tim's tried, a lot, over the years) then he'll make sure that the next month is as gentle as possible on his older brother.

Step 1. Murder Take care of Blockbuster

Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.

No. Wait. Tim has a better idea. He's got dirt on them, on top of the murder thing. He'll fabricate Catalina's tax returns, embezzle a shit ton of money from the IRS, and get her and her corrupt brother (because getting your sister out from murder charges is considered corrupt) arrested and locked away. And he'll make sure they stay locked away with some good old blackmail on Amanda Waller.

Tim grins, tranquilizing the building with an ungodly amount of knock out gas pellets, to riffle through the police precinct's files.

Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.

Step 2. Cripple Catalina Flores and her brother with blackmail and the IRS.

In three hours, Tim has everything he needs to begin a temporary hostile takeover. He's got the names of local mob bosses, the big players, and the names of practically every police officer that takes bribes and their... sponsors.

He'll have to cut off Blockbuster's lines of supplies first. Then, blacklist him from local suppliers, mobilize the police precinct against him (by imitating his M.O. perfectly- Tim's not a fucking amateur- and pretending to rob the precinct blind), and then break his knees.

Step 3. Profit

Tim takes out his shiny new burner phone, enjoying the loud sounds of the police squawking through his planted bugs. He lounges on the building next to it, keeping an eye out for Nightwing just in case the man decides to respond to the crisis.

[Unknown: It's RR.]

[Deathstroke: New phone?]

[RR: Who dis?]

[Deathstroke: What?]

[RR: Nevermind. I'll give you forty thousand to shoot someone's knees out.]

[Deathstroke:... That's it? Who?]

[RR: Blockbuster. Bludhaven. Extra twenty thousand if you tell him he's got the spine of a sea slug, kick him in the balls, and post it on Tweeting.]

[Deathstroke: What did he do to you? Deal.]

Tim ignored Deathstroke's question.

[RR: Half sent. Confirm?]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed. Timeline?]

[RR: Three weeks. 21 days.]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed.]

----

Tim grins ferally, all teeth as Catalina Flores looked on in horror at her computer screen.

"Get out of Bludhaven, and don't come back. If you even think of going near Nightwing, I will rip what's left of your pathetic, sniveling swine of a brother apart. You will not enjoy the consequences."

Tim clicks off, watching Catalina and her brother launch themselves into mad packing. He tapped out a short message to Amanda Waller for her and her team to intercept them at the state lines. They'll never get away from Tim's fury. Never.

[Waller: It's done.]

[Waller: I will find you.]

[RR: You can definitely try, Waller. Good doing business with you.]

Tim can see the blood vessel the woman popped after he sent that last message. He laughs.

He saves Deathstroke's video from Tweeting onto his actual, spoofed phone. He destroys the burner phone, less shiny now that he's dragged it through two and a half weeks of breaking heads and terrorizing the Bludhaven Underground. Nightwing hadn't even gotten a whiff of his activities, this Dick being far less experienced and known in this version of Blud.

One more week and Tim can continue his other projects.

----

Nightwing, going about his vigilante business: wow it sure is peaceful

Feral Tim Drake, Nightwing's scary dog privilege: try me, bitch

[courtmartialme]

forcing myself to post more just so the world has more riza in it

[tnevmucric]

ptolemaea, ethel cain / nightwing vol. 2 #93 (2004) / open weaving on ao3 / nightwing vol. 2 #97 (2004) / team titans #2 (1992)

[frogaroundandfindout]

Alfred calls Dick to check in after losing track of him for several days. Dick begins to tell Alfred that he doesn’t know what to do but interrupts himself in a panic about Bruce needing his help. Alfred assures him Bruce is fine and tells dick he’s worried about him (Batman: The 12-Cent Adventure #1)

[notmoreflippingelves]

A Timeline of Dick Grayson's Unrelenting Trauma Era (circa 2004-2006 in comics)

So as I was coincidentally reading the Outsiders (2003) and Teen Titans (2003) runs, I became gradually aware that some of the events were overlapping timeline with the Batfamily "War Games" arc. As I had previously become aware that "War Games" overlapped both the Blockbuster + Tarantula arc (Nightwing) AND Under the Red Hood, I became shocking aware of how many new traumas were rapidly piling onto Dick Grayson in very quick succession across multiple ongoing series.

So I did a lot of reading of both specific comics that I had read--and summaries of a few that I hadn't-- to do my best to make a definitive timeline of this absurdly stressful period in Dick Grayson's life. (Most of which seems to have occurred with around 6 months or less).

(I am no expert so feel free to add/clarify anything that I may have overlooked or misinterpreted).

[kermit-coded]

so nightwing 1996 huh.

[tarucore]

I’m going to hold your hand when I say this but some of you need to realize that if Devin Grayson used racist stereotypes in Nightwing 1996 writing Dick and Yoska then she was also using racist stereotypes writing Catalina Flores

the concept of an aggressive, sexually predatory Latina is not new, it’s not original, and frankly it’s tiring to see be repeated

acting like the way Catalina was/is portrayed in canon/fanworks is totally divorced from her ethnicity is how we get fics where Dick is triggered by hearing someone speak spanish (not even the specific pet names that Cat used, just spanish in general??!)

and I like Catalina as an antagonist, at least a secondary one, I think the Blockbuster arc has held up well compared to some other runs, I think that Devin is a decent writer with pretty good pacing for comic books which I can appreciate, and shockingly, I’m fine with the rape taking place in canon and the aftermath, as I know that the run was cut short (I’m a dead-dove fan and I’ve always liked any kind of whump, I can see why others don’t though and I understand that)

I also think that fanwriters need to be aware of bigoted source material, and that they don’t need to exacerbate these problems by flattening Catalina into a hypersexual, “crazy Latina” caricature which Devin even didn’t fully do in her run

I promise guys, there is a way to write her that doesn’t lean into stereotypes but still has her doing a terrible thing, I pinky swear

[galaxymagitech]

Just had a plot idea that I’ll probably never write because the themes are likely a bit too dark for me:

AU where Bludhaven never explodes and One Year Later isn’t a thing. Dick ends up returning to his position in the Bludhaven Police Department. And then, he’s handed a case where he has a definite conflict of interest that he absolutely cannot explain.

See, Catalina Flores was found gruesomely murdered. No leads, except the fact that whoever killed her wanted it to hurt.

Dick thinks he can handle this case. There are a lot of people who could want a former gang leader dead, and he just has to find out which one did it. Whoever killed her broke the law, so it’s only right that they end up behind bars…even if Dick knows he belongs there too. (Even if part of Dick is glad she’s gone.) But all of the suspects are turning out to be innocent, and Dick is completely at a loss. Meanwhile, another Nightwing has shown up in Bludhaven, killing in Dick’s name. A Nightwing who knows far too much about Blockbuster’s murder.

Or, in other words, Jason did some digging, disposed of a spider, and is now attempting his canonical poorly-thought-out brotherly bonding.

(Of course, Dick figures it out eventually. But he can’t confront Jason about killing Catalina Flores, because then he’d have to acknowledge why Jason killed Catalina Flores.)

[squishykitty825]

Maybe I'm the problem

Standing in the aftermath of his inaction, Nightwing knew he'd made a mistake. He knew he should have stepped in, stopped her from doing it, but he'd just stepped aside and did nothing but watch.

It was too much. Too much pain. Too much hurt. Too much everything.

Every bad thing that had happened recently was too much. And so he just stood there in the rain watching her end a terrible man's life, feeling no remorse for his inaction until it was too late. A lifeless corpse seeps blood onto the rooftop. Only for the rain to wash it away.

What had he done?

Nothing. Nightwing had done nothing. And he still did nothing when her hands were on his body. Touching him like he was hers. But he did nothing.

In the aftermath of this, he pushed away his family and friends, sinking into the depths of his denial. He was falling further and further into the darkness of his regret, and yet he couldn't bring himself to care enough to pull himself out.

And with no one left to catch him, he couldn't help but think,

Maybe I'm the problem.

Every time he sent one of his brothers to voicemail;

Maybe I'm the problem.

With every second spent in her presence, under her body;

Maybe I'm the problem.

[gotham-at-nightfall]

Nightwing: The Animated Series

By David Jamison

[deadsetobsessions]

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.2

[Pt.1]

Peter’s no stranger to memories that comes as nightmares. There’s something different to them, the taste of terror that’s tinged with a feeling of “that’s happened.”

Flashes of Aunt May, dying as he stood next to her while choosing the city over her? Old hat. Inky darkness surrounding MJ falling as Peter reached for her, over and over again? Been there, seen that, didn’t even get a sick scar out of it. Racing against the clock to defeat some bad guy or an unknown threat? That’s his Thursday.

But this?

This isn’t his. It’s real, Peter could tell that much. Sure, it’s wrapped up in silk hisses and heart crushing terror, but Peter could always tell whether a nightmare was a nightmare or whether it was a memory.

This was a memory. Not his. His. It’s complicated.

“Your father, papito, he-,”

Then, it’d be the ruffle of his hair, brown eyes. It reminded him of his mom. But the crease of these eyes were different. Hardened, mean. Even towards him.

“Well, he said no, but I knew what he really wanted.”

The base of Peter’s neck always crawled when he remembered that line. His spider-sense warned him that whatever he’s remembering, he would not like.

“Ey, Peter.”

“Huh?” Peter blinked, looking up from where his arms were elbow deep in wires.

“Don’cha need gloves with that?” Frank asked, munching on some jerky. They were sitting in the living room, repairing a TV and a washer Frank had somehow managed to lug back to the apartment. It’s a toss up between Frank’s network of orphans (Peter included), street rats (these things are not mutually inclusive), or his own slightly higher than average strength. Not that they needed to thrift broken things, considering Peter’s funneling money from offshore bank accounts belonging to this America’s 1%. They just made it so easy! He and Ned had been hacking into government bases in middle school back on his world. This world? Not even a challenge. Regardless, this was kind of like… Frank’s version of those fancy sensory boxes for Peter.

“Oh, no. It’s not plugged in, see?”

“How’re ya gunna know it works then?”

“Plug it in after I’m done. Turn it off and on, you know?”

Frank stared at him, then rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“If you burn down that portion of the house, at least we’ll be warm for a bit.”

“Thanks. Your confidence in me is astounding.”

“You talk like an old man.”

“I do not! Excuse you! If I’m old, you’re the expired knock off cup ramen in the back of a convenience store!”

“Yo, shrimpy, that’s rude, ya hear?” Frank snickered, impressed at the quip. The Alley kid turned brother stood up to plop next to Peter.

“So… you gonna go…?” Frank made a whooshing sound and held his hand in a web shooter position.

“Tonight? Prolly. Anything I should look out for?”

“You’re gunna get yourself killed, but yeah, heard the gang’s back up north.”

Peter flashed a smile, dimples coming out. “I’ll try not to. Thanks, Frank.”

“Anytime, Spidey.”

Frank, though little (to Peter), was a good friend. Then again, considering Peter saved his ass both in mask and out of it, it’s to be expected. One would think that after eight years of hiding his identity, Peter would be better at it. Then, he got punted into a different world and got made by a child.

To be fair, the circumstances all but screamed Parker Luck, so Peter’s not counting this instance.

See, the first few days of this sudden cohabitation, Peter had asked Frank to find them furniture. Both because he was getting real sick of eating on the floor and because Peter needed to fix his suit to match his much younger body. Then, once he readjusted the shrinking nanotech and the spider legs to fit him in a way that wouldn’t break him, Peter had promptly swung out of the building and went patrolling. He stuck with the wandering Frank, taking out muggers and robbers and everything in between and past that around the area where Frank is.

Looking back, Peter realized how lucky he was when he decided to go on the “helping joyride” at the beginning of the evening. His spider-sense activated way later in the night, the moment where he began seeing and sensing the cameras that kept pointing towards him. He ducked and dodged out of the way, and eventually, the feeling left. Somebody was watching. And he doesn’t know where they stood on the moral side of things.

Anyways, it happened after three weeks and a half of going out and just… settling into life in Gotham. He had already been struggling to find a way home, scouring the libraries around Gotham on any subject that would aid in his multiversal travel. Peter would like to know which emo kid named this city.

Eventually, Parker Luck decided to strike once more.

“Get back, freak!” The lady brandished a wicked knife.

Talk about deja vu.

“Oh no! Knives! My greatest weakness!” Spider-Man yelled, sticking to the shadowed windows as he let his voice echo in the alley. Gotham had a lot of nice hiding places. Spider-man dropped down on her head like a bat out of hell and webbed the knife out of her hands. He webbed the mugger up onto the alleyway above normal reach, and told the man to call the police.

Frank screamed, just as Spider-man wrapped it up, loud enough to reach his enhanced hearing.

“Wait-!” The man tried to stop him, but Peter, small, trained, and having readjusted his reach, slipped away.

“What’s your name?!” The guy he saved yelled at his back.

Spider-man, distracted, yelled back, “SPIDEY!”

He shot webs upwards and used them to slingshot his way towards where Frank was. And… car! Peter used his webs to swing up, up, and let himself fall to gain momentum. At the last moment, Peter shot a web to the top of the car and pulled himself to it.

Shit, shit, shit. He’s stupidly attached to the kid, and he was stupid enough to let Frank go out into Gotham looking both well-fed and well clothed.

The world slowed as he locked eyes with a terrified Frank, who was getting dragged into a car.

The world narrowed to speed and Spider-Man landed on top of the car roof, sweeping his leg out and thankfully remembering his much shorter reach. His foot collided with the kidnapper’s face with the equivalent force of a grown up, slightly annoyed Peter Parker who’s letting his strength go a bit unchecked. Basically, they went flying, blood spewing out of the undoubtedly broken nose Spider-Man had just given them.

Standing on business, the shorter webster promptly flipped down wards as he all but glued the would-be kidnapper to the curb.

“You alright?”

“You’re- You’re that new mask.” Frank whispered, scuttling away from the car where he’d been dropped.

“Yeah, man. You okay?” His voice modulator came in clutch.

“Fuck. Fuck, I gotta-” Frank stumbled. The kid looked like he was one bad break away from snapping. Peter hated it when kids got that terrified look on their faces, it reminded him of himself, helpless as Ben bled out because they should never have to fear something that much.

Something’s wrong, though. As much as Peter wished otherwise, Frank was a Gotham bred and true alley kid, through and through. These kids don’t spook easily. Peter already stopped a couple of kidnappings and at least two of the kids had yelled at him to stay out of the way before unloading a rain of nut kicks on their kidnappers that left Peter wincing for days in sympathy. Frank being this spooked? Something’s going on.

“Woah, easy there, I’m not gonna hurt you,”

Frank shot him a half hysterical, half condescending look. Yeah, that’s more like it.

“Ob-obviously. I have to go before more of them comes,” Frank muttered.

“More of them? You know what they want?”

Frank stared at him, looking up and down at his blue, red, and gold ensemble.

“I can help,” Peter promised.

“What’re your thoughts on metas?”

Suspicious.

“Uh, they’re fine? Depends on the person, why?”

Frank sighed. The skinny teenager, barely 14, tugged at his hair. “They’re traffickers. Meta kids, mostly, so the Bats don’t do nothing. I- uh, I got caught.” He held up a thin wrist, showing Peter his new accessorie, a think metal bracelet that was beeping red.

Peter cursed in his head. Fuck, of course he’d stumble into a-

“Caught? You’re a meta?”

Frank nodded. “Strength. This is an inhibitor, illegal kind, you know?”

Well, that explained how he got all of those furniture without struggle.

“Right. Hey, don’t stress, kid, I’m a meta too.”

Frank blinked.

“What?”

Peter walked up the side of the car and did jazz hands.

“You’re a meta?! But- but you’re a mask operating in Gotham!”

“Yeah…? Is that weird?”

Before Frank could reply, Peter’s sense screamed and Spider-Man shoved Frank away from the spray of bullets.

“Move, Frank!”

Peter flipped away, vaguely aware of Frank’s gaping realization. He took down the shooters in quick succession, stopping the speeding car with his bare hands and some webs.

“Shooters, no shooting!” He yelled, liberally applying force he tended to keep under wraps. Frank was like a brother to him, and there is no universe where Peter Parker would hold back when his family was in danger.

When he got back to Frank, who had oddly stayed instead of running, Peter found out why the kid stayed.

“Peter?!” Frank hissed lowly, looking more pissed off than terrified. “Are you fucking insane?! Why are you running ‘round as a mask?!”

“Shhh!” Shit, he got made. “Come on, get back to the apartment and we can talk there. I’ll get rid of this-”

Peter casually snapped the bracelet in half, tearing the tracker out, and tucked it away to study later.

“Fuckin’- shit, fine, but you’re explaining everything, motherfucker!”

They split, Peter guessing correctly that he was in another lecture of a lifetime.

——

“Your vigilante name is Spiderman?”

“Hey, I can hear you say it without the hyphen! There’s a hyphen in there!”

“You’re not a man! You’re a twerp!”

“I’ll show you twerp, you-”

Five minutes of tussling later, in which Peter did not try to bite Frank’s arm off, thank you very much, Frank leaned back on the couch.

“Besides. People in the streets are calling you Spidey, anyways.”

“Spidey?”

“Some dude you saved from a mugging said you told him.”

Peter slammed his head on the floor where he was laying face down.

“Ughhhh.”

——

“He could have been great. I saw his potential.”

Anger. But he shouldn’t be afraid. The woman loved him.

“Hey, Peter. You’re up here again.”

“Hi.” Peter stayed curled up. His mind had refused him sleep for the last three nights, causing dark circles to appear underneath his eyes. The memories of what he assumed to be this world’s Peter was merging with his. What he’d seen so far did not fill him with confidence of a happy childhood. Flashes of wielding weapons, the sterile smell of a metal dissection table, and hundreds and hundreds of spiders crawling over him, getting startled into biting down. Plus, the stress of tracking down the meta trafficking circles in Gotham was no joke. He doesn’t know Gotham nearly as well as he knew New York, and he had to be extra careful running around and trying to catch every bit of the circle before making any moves. Frank was helping with his network of homeless Meta kids, but the traffickers were everywhere except for Crime Alley.

He should be dead. They sold his body to an organ harvester who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version.

“Everything all right?” Red Robin clambered down to sit next to him, cowl hiding the concerned scrunch of his brow. He’s never seen Peter like this.

Peter grumbled, staring down at another alleyway. He knows his alternate died. His shit excuse for another sold his body to an organ harvester, when he seized on the operating table, who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version. He does, however, have to worry about missing vital organs.

“I… remembered something.” Peter remembered a lot of things. And pretty much none of them were good. This Peter suffered a lot in his short life.

Red Robin nodded. The issue of Peter’s spotty memories had come up in their discussions over the past month.

“Ah. Something unpleasant?”

Peter thought back to the voice who, despite all of the other, highly traumatic memories, haunted his brain like nothing else.

“He didn’t live up to it. He refused to kill. So I made the decision for him.”

“Yeah. Not for me, but unpleasant that I know about it.”

“Yeah, I get that. You wanna talk about it?” Peter hid a small smile. Even though Red Robin kept his tone light, the concern still bled through. Warm. It made Peter feel warm. Even if it appeared that the Bats don’t really care about the trafficked meta kids… maybe Red Robin would come save normal kid Peter if he got kidnapped. A backup plan to consider. For now…

“Sure,” he said. Red Robin waited patiently.

“I think, I remember someone. Maybe, maybe my…” Peter grimaced. “My mom? She… told me something. And uh, I think I’maproductofrape.”

“Oh,” Red Robin said, so awkwardly that Peter had to crack a small smile despite the gravity of the topic. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too. Not myself, but for…” Peter waved a hand. “You know.”

“Yeah.”

“She wasn’t a good person,” Peter whispered and hated how he missed the browns of her eyes- her middle name was Marie, and god, Peter wished he hadn’t known that because he gets why her eyes reminded him so much of his own mother- and she besmirched everything Mary Parker stood for.

“You have our combined potential, Peter. Make sure not to be like him too much and live up to it, papito.”

“It’s okay, to love her even if she hurt other people,” Red Robin said, gently ruffling his greasy hair. Peter’s spidey-sense tingled and he ducked away. Red Robin withdrew his hand. “Because you can’t really help that. Trust me, I’ve tried. You just have to make sure they don’t get the chance to do what they did again.”

Cold, cold voices and his voice gave out from screaming. “You really are your father’s son. Never being able to do what’s necessary.”

And Peter wondered what happened to Red Robin and who hurt him. Peter would just like to talk. Red Robin reminded him of himself, way back when being Spider-Man meant finding out Harry became Green Goblin. Pained. Tired.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. But that’s not really a problem, considering the last thing the organ harvester said before dumping him in an alley. “She’s dead in a ditch in Siberia or something. I’m not really worried she’ll do it again.”

“Uh.”

“It’s cool,”

“Right. Have you… remembered your dad?”

“Yeah. He’s in Gotham,” Peter unfurled a little.

“You want help tracking him down? I’m good at that kind of thing.”

Peter glanced at Red Robin. “I think you just admitted to being a stalker.”

“Vigilante,” Red Robin shrugged, like it explained everything. And yeah, it kind of did. Peter snorted.

“Nah, it’s okay. I don’t want to meet him anyways.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about me,” Peter ticked off his fingers. “I’m a literal walking, talking, breathing reminder of his trauma. And I don’t need a dad.”

Red Robin looked at him silently. Peter doesn’t think about it.

He never wanted to see his parents suffer. An alternate version of his dad, hurt so irrevocably by an alternate version of his mom?

Peter hated that this Catalina dirtied his mother’s name, and went against the most fundamental parts of what the spider symbol was meant for. And considering he’s been doing this longer than her, he had first dibs on defining it. He’ll look after his dad, as long as he’s stuck in Gotham. It’s only right.

“His name? Oh, my son, it’s Richard Grayson.”

——

Peter, who Trusts his instincts: no head rubs?? awwwww

Tim, who’s been trying to get a dna sample for the last month: how does he keep evading me?? He must be a genius or a spy or- *spirals down the conspiracy board*

——

Tim: I’ve connected the dots!

Peter: you’ve connected jack shit

——

Listen, the moment I learned Catalina Flores’ middle name, the pieces clicked, okay? Like legos. It’s like, former FBI agent in this one and former CIA agent in Peter’s home universe? Wow. Middle name Marie? Mary Parker? Incredible. Spider themes run in the blood apparently?? They both have brown eyes!! Trying to do good with no qualms about murder!! (I’m assuming since Mary Parker was SHIELD and I don’t think SHIELD cared much for the sanctity of human life if it threatened the country or something)

[chekhovs-slinky]

You can obviously write whatever the fuck you want, but if you honestly think that a “good character development” is your sexual assault victim “forgiving” everyone who BLAMED HIM FOR IT???

Stop writing sexual assault. Just. Stop.

EDIT: to clarify, yes Dick would forgive everyone in his life, he has issues! But that’s not an excuse to write him forgiving his abusers and then write none of THEM having the thought of “hey maybe we should actually support him instead of just never bringing it up in the story ever again because it’s ’all better now’”

You are the author, not the character. Other characters are also under your control.

Either don’t add victim blaming, or actually handle the situation with the tact it needs. AND ACTUALLY TAG IT.

[oldmannapping]

Trigger warning: Discussion of past sexual assualt and mention of domestic violence (fictional).

HC: Dick donates one of his Nightwing suits to a What Were You Wearing exhibit to destigmatise male rape.

He does a single interview with a carefully-vetted reporter in response to the media explosion.

Exerpt below.

Reporter: Despite your flashy and talkative superhero persona, you've actually been quite good at keeping details of your personal life close to the vest for all these years.

Nightwing: (chuckle) Yeah, that's a pretty big part of having a secret identity. Talk lots, say nothing. When in doubt, throw in a pun or two.

Reporter: So after, what is it, ten, fifteen years of being a public figure-

Nightwing: More than twenty, now.

Reporter: Twenty! Gosh you're making me feel old.

Nightwing: Me too.

Reporter: So after more than two decades of being in the public eye as Nightwing, you've chosen to reveal a part of your life, some would say arguably one of the most vulnerable and private parts of your life. Why now?

Nightwing: It definitely wasn't a quick decision. I think that for any survivor of crime, it's important that they take time to heal and process things. Particularly for something like rape or domestic assualt, so much agency is taken away from you and I think for me, owning my story was a really important part of feeling like I could take control back.

Reporter: And you wanted to take control in a way that helped other people.

Nightwing: Not at first. I wasn't- It wasn't something I immediately thought like, "Oh, now I can relate to victims better on the job, how can I use this for good" kind of thing. I was really- For a long time, like years, I just wanted to pretend it didn't happen. Like it was the same as any other injury I'd get being Nightwing, or Robin, or whatever, like it wasn't any different.

Reporter: But it was different.

Nightwing: Yeah. I mean for one thing, it wasn't really an injury. I mean, there's no such thing as luck here, or being more raped or less raped, but in my case, I didn't have physical injuries. I wasn't- it wasn't like I was overpowered and beaten or anything like that. So I didn't feel like there was anything to "recover" from, if that makes sense. And I think there's also a lot of shame that went along with that, as a man, as a superhero, as someone who's used to being the strong one and the one who protects people, there was a lot of shame I felt. Like, if this was really rape then it would have been more violent, and I'd have been able to fight her off, and my body wouldn't have responded... All of that.

Reporter: All things that I'm sure you've heard from other victims, over the years.

Nightwing: Yeah. And that's something, I didn't want to be a victim. That wasn't- Nobody wants to be a victim, but I've spent most of my life helping people and being the hero, so it was impossible for me, for a long time, to do that cognitive shift and think of myself as both. Like, yes I'm a hero, yes I'm strong, and yes I was also assaulted and yes I need help to deal with this.

Reporter: So it was a long time before you told anyone.

Nightwing: Yeah. It was actually my broth- It was someone in my family, who noticed some things I said and some ways that I acted, and confronted me about it.

Reporter: Confronted?

Nightwing: Yeah. That's how it felt, anyway. I was really defensive at first. I was still in denial and wasn't really in a place to talk about it.

Reporter: But you did.

Nightwing: Well, he didn't really give me a choice, ha. It was- and you can cut this out later, if he doesn't want me to say it- but it was Red Hood. He's got a lot of experience with survivors and he's stubborn as shit so I didn't stand a chance. I think part of me also, I think I was ready to tell someone. I think I needed to accept what had happened.

Reporter: So it was the right time for some tough love.

Nightwing: Some tough brotherly love, yeah.

[barbara-gordons-glasses]

dc acknowledge male rape survivors without turning them into the butt of awful jokes challenge

[frogaroundandfindout]

Barbra objects to Tarantula being let into the loop and tells Bruce her suspicions about tarantula killing blockbuster too. She then says that dick might be protecting her because he slept with her (Nightwing vol 2 #97)